Retrouvailles
by thekingschariot
Summary: It had been on a night just like this when they had first kissed… Plotless Oz X Gilbert for lacemoons


Retrouvailles

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><p>It had been on a night just like this when they had first kissed… The clouds had blanketed the world in a smothering darkness, and it was in that blindness that Oz had snuck into his room and commenced a late night discussion about something Gil could no longer remember… because his mind was far too focused on the memory of Oz's lips barely touching his own, the hands on his shoulders that had suddenly pulled him forward gripping him tightly despite the gentle brushing of mouths. When the dark-haired child had not pulled away, nor spoken a single word save a curious uttering of his master's name, Oz had kissed him again, with a little more force, with a little more confidence. Again… again… Again and again he kissed him, and he continued to kiss him until the two boys were breathless and burning, lips sore and quite possibly bleeding from the inexperienced use of teeth and tongue, but they were happy… Oz must have been happy, because he wrapped his arms around his little servant and fell sideways onto the bed with him, giggling softly for several minutes before quieting and falling asleep.<p>

Tonight was quite different… though the same suffocating darkness covered the land, leaving the dying flame of an oil-lit lamp as their only source of light, Oz had not wasted any time making his intentions clear. Within seconds of arriving in the man's room, he had knocked the novel from his servant's hands and forced the man down onto his back, straddling Gilbert's waist and pressing their lips together in a firm, possessive manner.

Gilbert, startled and uncertain, had lain completely still, his mind racing with a million thoughts in a single moment while his body froze up entirely. After a few seconds, Oz's kiss softened, then broke, and the reflection of flickering light off those soft, half-lidded eyes was almost hypnotic…

He told him he knew… He knew that Gilbert still cared about him, that he still wanted him (he was so terrible at hiding it), and that he wanted Gil, too. Those small hands – so much smaller than they had felt the last time – never stopped moving, touching his shoulders, his cheek, his chin, his neck… anywhere. Part of him wondered if Oz merely needed a distraction as he spoke those powerful words… while another part prayed it was simply because he enjoyed touching him…

But… he couldn't just…

"You remember…" Oz whispered, placing a single, gentle kiss on Gil's lips, "It felt good…" another kiss, slower this time, hands gripping the man's shoulders lightly, "right…?"

Gil swallowed hard, keeping his eyes shut tight, fists clenched tight and his entire body quivering in his attempt to restrain himself, to prevent his body from responding to the teenager's kisses. "O-Oz I…" he started, but clamped his mouth shut when he heard the weakness in his own voice. He took a deep breath, but before he could speak, Oz's hands had travelled to his throat, moving to hold his jaw in place as the young Vassalius pressed his lips to Gil's with a little more force. He made a soft grunt of protest (perhaps?), but otherwise remained silent, piercing his lips together and desperately trying not to kiss the boy back. He couldn't… He just-!

"I need to know Gil…" Oz whispered against the man's mouth and gazing into his servant's uncertain eyes, which the man quickly shut again to avoid that piercing gaze, "When we were young, when we got like this…"

Gil shuffled awkwardly, "W-we never-"

"Like this?" Oz asked, allowing his entire body to lie flush against his servant's, as if to emphasize what he was saying, "No… I suppose not…" Things had never gotten to this extent when they were young… There was never any intent to progress their relationship beyond kissing and holding. Now, though… "Well then… When we hugged… When we touched… When we _kissed_…" The young noble lightly kissed the side of Gil's mouth, a soft, frustrated whimper escaping the man despite his best attempts to contain it, fists clutching the sheets beneath him. "Did it… feel good, Gil? Did you like how it felt?"

Of course he had… of course he did… How could he not love every brush of fingers and lips against his skin? How could he not love the closeness, the warmth, the sense of… of belonging somewhere… to someone… to _him_…

"But I'm…" he whispered, his eyes still closed. He couldn't look… how could he look into those eyes and say he didn't want this? Because he did – with body, heart and soul, he wanted this, wanted him – but it was not right. Oz was… Oz was too good for him. Maybe when they were young, when he hadn't done so many horrible things, killed so many people… Maybe then he would have stood a chance… but now? "I… I just…"

"Shh…" Oz hushed, his breath hot against the elder mans mouth, and Gilbert released a shuddering breath, shaken and uncertain under Oz's unsettling calmness. It was as though Oz was the adult, and Gilbert a mere child, trapped beneath him. He could easily throw the blond off of him, and without any great effort, either… But he didn't. He couldn't… because he…

When Oz kissed him then, Gilbert found himself unable to resist. Mouths moved against one another in controlled motions, and the heavy, contented sigh the blond released, ladened with echos of relief and a touch of gratitude, told Gilbert that, honestly, Oz had not been completely confident in assuming his servant still had feelings for him. The Vessalius slowly bent his arms and allowed his legs to slide outward, lowering his body down on his servants, a rush of breath escaping Gilbert as a result. Oz shuddered at the intimate contact, but remained silent, lacing his fingers through the man's hair as he tilted his head to deepen their kiss.

Gilbert felt his throat tighten and his heart ache with longing, hands lifting from the bed to wrap around his master instead. It had been so long… He tilted his head and opened his mouth slightly, moaning softly as Oz took the silent invitation and slipped his tongue inside without the slightest hint of discomfort or uncertainty. It felt so right, so perfect, to have this boy within his arms, settled comfortably along the line of his body, their legs slowly entwining, perfectly locked despite their difference in length and build… It was as if their bodies had been made for one another, so completely different, and yet so perfectly matched.

Wrong? How could this be wrong? How could he even have considered it?

They were… There was no one else… no one else would fit him so perfectly, physically, mentally, emotionally… no one else would ever make his heart race with every kiss and touch and secret smile…

Oz…

Oz was the one… The _only_ one…

Only he could make Gilbert feel… not worthy of love, exactly, but the boy made him want it badly enough to disregard his principals, to ignore his conscience, to reach out and take for himself…

"A-Are you sure?" he stuttered in a quiet whisper, holding the boy's face in his hands and searching for uncertainty in his master's eyes. "If you want to… to be with me… I don't… I don't think I could ever let you go… If-"

And once again, Oz's mouth was pressed against his lips, but there was nothing possessive or hungry about it. It was a gentle kiss… Just like that first night…

"Well, then…" a voice whispered - Oz's voice, his lips so close, so gentle, so soft, he had barely noticed they had separated from his own to talk. He shuffled and settled more comfortably in Gil's arms, even closer, even warmer… and then he whispered, "Just… never let me go…"

Those words spoke of absolutes… of secret vows and eternal ties of loyalty and love… Of a bond far stronger than family ties, noble titles or social law…

"I'll never leave you…" he promised.

"Nor I you…" he answered.

The oil lamp died, and the entire world vanished. There was nothing, no sound, no colors… the rest of the world could very well have disappeared forever…

But there was warmth… there was devotion… and they had each other…

And if nothing else, that would never change…

**[End]**

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><p><em>Retrouvailles: The happiness of meeting again after a long time.<em>


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